


Breath of the Wind

by owlish_peacock



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Angst, F/M, Nature, Other, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-06 13:57:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14058456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlish_peacock/pseuds/owlish_peacock
Summary: Love and longing in three parts. For Gotham-Ruaidh's Writing Workshop on Tumblr. Prompt: It was there with every breath. Short and sweet.





	1. 1948

She twisted her ring around her finger, it’s carving so intimately known to her, like the lines of her own body.

_ I wish. _

_ I wish… _

Well, as they say: If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

No amount of wishing could place his body next to hers. No amount of hoping could imitate his warm touch. And yet… She could almost picture him beside her: his long, taut body curled in a vulnerability that only she knew. His hair damp and dark with rain water. His smile… Oh, god. His smile.

She inhaled the brisk sweetness of the October drizzle. The droplets were butterfly kisses upon her face, showering her with their wet adoration. The breeze ran its fingers through her hair and whistled about her head. It echoed in her ear words so foreign and so familiar…

_ Sassenach. _

_ Sassenach. _

She could smell him, then, above the petrichor of the earth: sweat and musk and mint leaves and a subtle sweetness that had no name. 

He wasn’t there, of course. But she tilted her head back anyway, leaning against the soft caress of the breeze.

_ Sassenach. _

_ Sassenach. _

His spirit flowed within the breath of the wind. He surrounded her; she could feel him, smell him, hear him…

_ Sassenach. _

_ Sassenach. _

And when the rain stopped, he disappeared, leaving her with tousled hair and a damp face. A small movement from her midsection brought her back. She touched the swell gently, silently soothing the life within.

_ It’s alright, little one. It’s just your father. _

Another nudge of acknowledgement poked her stomach. Claire gathered herself, and, holding her middle, shuffled in doors.

But the leaves in the trees still whispered under the embrace of the wind.

_ Sassenach. _

_ Sassenach.  _


	2. 1746

It was snowing. White flakes pressed upon the earth, and blanketed the Highlands in silent prayer.

The only sound was the wind. It howled around him, dancing upon the leaves that enveloped his cave. Bracken scraped against the rock ceiling, a foreboding sound that discomforted him.

As if the cold wasn’t uncomfortable enough. As if the stone home wasn’t uncomfortable enough. As if life wasn’t uncomfortable enough.

The wind rushed again, filling his ears with a keening cry that called out to him.

_Jamie!_

A sigh escaped his lips in a swirl of pale, billowing lace. His mind drifted to wine waves and whisky flowers, to fair hills and deep valleys. To sunset lips that caressed his name with a gentle lover’s tongue:

_Jamie._

The wind rose once more…softer, gentler. The breeze slid it’s light hand down the body of the forest, like a woman’s fingers playing along the wilds of a man’s torso.

_Jamie…_

The zephyr ceased, leaving him enveloped in the muffled silence of his snow-covered den. The quiet was a discomfort, even more so than anything else; his thoughts echoed too loudly within the stone walls.

He wondered if she had made it back safe. He wondered if their child had been born yet. He wondered many things that turned his mind throughout the night until his bodily needs drifted him into a nightmarish sleep.

On that cold November evening, muffled by flurries and frost, a child’s wail rang through the air, carried on the back of the wind.


	3. 1769

Dreams have a funny way of escaping the consciousness, and entering the body. So, when his torso crumpled beneath the weight of crippling loneliness, he knew within his heart of hearts that it was merely an illusion of the mind.  
But, despite the subconscious rebelling against such dreams, despite the tickling in the back of his brain— _this isn’t real_ —the pain was palpable enough to crush him.  
He awoke, heart thrumming in his throat. He grasped the edge of the bed, fingers caressing soft curls amongst the linen and wool. Claire.  
 _Thank god._  
Only a dream. The harmonious inspirations on his left side reminded him that loneliness was merely in the years past.  
But, the panic hadn’t abated, and he found himself gasping for fresh air that would not be found within the confines of the cabin. He stepped out, careful not to wake his sleeping companions.  
The night was unusually dark. The moon and stars were blanketed by the overprotective clouds, leaving the earth in rayless shadows. A soft mist poured from the sky, dusting his skin in a sheen of rain water and gooseflesh. He should have been cold, and perhaps he was, but the cool moisture in the air was welcome.  
He closed his eyes, and opened his senses.  
The world was endless and still. He could reach out with his mind, and never find the edge. Trees among streams among mountains among the sky… Forever. He found a peace within that, the limitlessness of it all.  
The wood creaked behind him. He thought it was the wind.  
“Da? What are you doing out here? It’s freezing!” The wide, dulcet tones startled him. The voice hadn’t familiarized itself in his brain, but it still fluttered his heart.  
“Just, getting some fresh air, mo nighean.” He turned backward, taking in her disheveled cinnamon plait and lidded eyes. “Ye should go back to bed, though.”  
She didn’t listen; Claire had told him she had a mind of her own. “Would you like some company?”  
“Aye. I would.”  
She dropped beside him, resting her head upon his shoulder. His breathing hitched. She had never initiated contact with him yet, had never shown her affection with physical comfort. Careful as not to disturb her, he placed his arm around her.  
“Da?”  
“Hmm?”  
Her hand slipped into his, warm and clammy from sleep. “I love you. I don’t think I’ve told you that yet, but I do.”  
Grasping her closer to him, Jamie replied: “I love ye, too, Brianna. Always have. Always will.”

 

 


End file.
